


The First of Many

by msdaphne



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Brainstorming, First Kiss, M/M, Unresolved Ideological Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdaphne/pseuds/msdaphne
Summary: Surprise!!! Chapter 2!The first chapter was published asFourth Squadronfor Stormpilot Week 2017.  I planned chapter 2 but never got around to writing it. Now (ahem) seemed like a good time to pick it up again.It's written as a screenplay, sort of. I have no idea how movies are actually written. (*shrugs*)





	1. Fourth Squadron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately after the destruction of Starkiller. A number of personnel, including the General herself, are wasting no time making diplomatic overtures to neutral and skittishly allied worlds in the aftermath of the destruction of the seat of galactic government.
> 
> They leave in the morning; the funeral for those lost in the battle will be tonight.

* * *

 

Fighter pilots are gathered around their briefing table. There are several conspicuously empty seats. Poe is standing.

Poe: I know we're all hurting right now. There's nothing I'd rather do than get smashed at this funeral. But. The Order is pissed, we've got these envoys going out, and we're down people and we're down planes.

Karé: Will we be escorting the envoys?

Poe: [shakes his head] We just don't have the planes. Priority is patrolling near space, especially when they come back.

Eyebrows go up around the table.

Poe: _We_ come back. As of midnight, Kun's your momma. Snap and I'll be gone three cycles.

He touches the table; a holo grid pops up.

Poe: This is the rota for the next four.

[Questioning murmurs around the table.]

Snap: No, buddy. Uh-uh.

Bastian: _Seriously_ , mom.

Nunb: [Something like  _for fuck's sake_ ]

Snap pulls Poe to face him, takes him by the chin and turns his face to inspect still-visible injuries.

Snap: You gonna try to tell me you've had near as much sleep as _anyone_ else in this room?

Iolo: I can fly tonight, Poe. _Please._

[Dissent rises].

Poe: [commander-ish] This is _my_ decision. You know what they say. We fight for democracy, we don't practice it.

Snap: [fiercely] I'm not talking to the fleet commander. I'm talking to the envoy to the Juvex sector.

[They glare at each other]

Snap: You know what you're bringing to the table. It sure as hell isn't our bountiful resources. [gestures around them]. You need your beauty sleep, _ambassador_.

Poe looks around at the unanimous concern, and raises his hands in surrender.

Poe: Alright, alright. [wipes two blocks off the rota]. Wexley and I are on mission, effective immediately. Major Kun?

[She stands]

Poe: May the Force be with you, and your fleet. [nods]

Karé: [nods in return] Force be with you, sir. You'll still make it to the fire?

Poe: [taps at his chrono, looks up] See you there, Ma'am.

...

Snap and Poe leave the briefing.

Poe: You guys worry too much.

Snap: He says. Three whole days after being tortured by a Sith.

Poe: [grimaces, shakes his head] You know they're not Siths. Exactly.

Snap: Not  _Sith_  exactly. The plural of Sith is Sith.

Poe: [pained, exasperated sigh]

 

They walk in silence for a few steps.

A grin spreads slowly across Snap's face.

Snap: At least now we know you weren't totally delusional.

Poe: Huh?

Snap: About the kid.

Poe: What, who, Finn? He's not a kid. And - what do you mean, delusional?

Snap: Honestly? Poe? Before they all showed up here, in the  _Millennium fucking Falcon._

[shakes his head]

Snap: We... well, I... thought maybe Finn was a product of [waves his hand around his head, indicating _trauma_ ]. And, y'know, prolonged sun exposure.

Poe: You thought I hallucinated him?

Snap: [grins] I mean, he is kind of exactly what your brain would come up with.

They reach the junction where they are parting ways. Poe stops, leans on the wall, eyeing his friend a little suspiciously.

Poe: My brain.

Snap: [grinning even more] C'mon. What was the first thing you said to him?

Poe: [confused] What?

Snap: Please tell me it was [resting his chin in his palm], _Aren't you a little handsome for a stormtrooper?_

Poe: [chuckling, with the wide smile and shy, fluttering eyes of a man smitten] He is, isn't he?

Snap: Yeah he is. Get some rest, _ambassador_.

Poe: [over his shoulder as they part ways] You, too, buddy. That's a [wide yawn] [mumbles to himself] thassan' order.

 

* * *

 

Infirmary. Finn is unconscious on his back in a bacta bath. Poe and Jess are at his sides, writing notes on flimsi.

 

Poe: Wish you could be awake for this, buddy. I know he was important to you.

Jess: Hell, he trusted you. Not a lot of people in the galaxy can say that.

Poe: [quietly] You know I wouldn't be here if I hadn't trusted you. [Smiles] Although that's maybe a slightly less exclusive club.

Jess: None of us would be here. [She gathers her flimsis and pats Finn's arm]: See ya tomorrow, buddy. [To Poe] See ya at the fire, mom.

[Poe nods, watches her leave. He turns back to Finn, head down; he shuffles the flimsis on his tray.]

Poe: If I knew what you wanted to say, I'd, um, [gestures at the flimsis. He puts them in his pocket.]

Poe: I tell ya what. When I'm back, and you're up and around, we'll do something together. Just a little campfire, me and you. You can talk to General Solo... and, um, any of your buddies, if you feel like it. And me, I - [He takes Finn's hand again. His eyes drop down to look at their hands; he doesn't finish his sentence.]

 

* * *

 

Funeral pyre for Han Solo and the fighter pilots lost in the assault. People are gathered, talking, drinking, hugging. They approach the fire one at a time and add their flimsis to it; the cinders circle lazily upwards.

Poe greets Leia with a long, wordless hug before making his way to the pyre. He offers his notes, watches the orange tide consume each folded slip, the grey remains disintegrate in turbulent convection. He blinks as smoke and cinder drift past his face and up toward the stars. He turns back toward the log benches around the fire. Snap wraps an arm around his shoulder and presses a drink into his hand. He looks down at it.

Poe: Just one. Someone told me I need some beauty rest.

Snap: You and me both, buddy.

They sit in a circle of people, telling stories about Han Solo.

Voice: The first time I met him, he told me Threepio needed a can of WA-11... [everyone laughs]

Poe is quiet, zoned out, the voices fade around him.

Someone asks how Han and General Organa met. A few suddenly merry faces turn to Poe.

Voice: C'mon, Dameron, you know that story!

He looks up at the voice and then down again shyly, closes his eyes above a very small, very sad smile.

Poe: Never gonna hear the end of that, am I?

Voice: C'mon, it's so romantic!

Voice: Don't tell us you weren't thinking about it.

Voice: Tell it for the newbies!

Poe: [Shakes his head wistfully.] It's not my story to tell. But I can try to drag her over here if you like. [He stands to leave.] 

Voice: [Gently] Hey, Poe? How's he doing?

Poe: [Shrugs] I don't know if he can hear anything, but I'll tell him you asked.

 

Someone else looks up. His face is not gentle; it's bitter, and he's glaring at Poe.

Guy: He's doing a hell of a lot better than Ziff, anyway.

Poe: [Looking directly and solemnly at the guy] I know. I wouldn't be standing here if Ziff hadn't had my tail.

[Guy is not at all appeased]

Poe: We couldn't have taken that thing down without him. We couldn't have done it without Arwen, or Asty. We couldn't have done it without General Solo and Chewbacca. And we couldn't have done it without Finn.

[He pauses, almost daring the soldier to argue with him.]

Poe: As far as I'm concerned, every one of the people we lost are heroes, and you'd better believe that's what their families are gonna hear from me.

[His eyes harden at the mention of his duties. He glances down at the bottle in the soldier's hand, and then back up to his face. He nods backward toward the fire.]

Poe: Hope you had a chance to say your prayers, Sergeant.

[He walks off into the dark, head low.]

 

* * *

 

Morning. The flight deck is bustling. Shuttles and cruisers are receiving their pre-flight checks, as are two starfighters.

The ad hoc envoys check their lists: the dull if dinner-worthy suits that pass for dress uniforms; decent, inconspicuous civvies. The two fighter pilots are in freshly laundered flight suits. They joke together as they check over their toiletries. Fresh razors, floss, deodorant, contraceptives. Antidotes to common poisons. Cyanide.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in the infirmary, the medical staff take the opportunity to prepare for the ground battles that are sure to eventually follow. Inventory, maintenance, cleaning. Beating back the mildew that seems to invade even the most hermetic spaces on this planet.

While they work around Finn, they talk to him. He is their new favorite patient, for good reasons. But for him, they'd all be stardust right now. More specifically, he saved the life of one of their other favorite, if reluctant, patients.

But most especially and dearest to their own hearts: he tried to patch up a _wounded Wookiee_.

 

Anyone could imagine not wanting to be a stormtrooper, taking an opportunity to escape. But if there's anything the First Order stands for, it's human supremacy. Anyone who tried to treat a _wounded Wookiee_   (!) clearly had more going on in his blessed, steadily bleeping heart than mere self-interest. 

So they talk to him as they work, about the inventory, about the maintenance, about the mildew.

 

And they talk _about_ him, out of earshot. How to address him, when he comes out of sedation, surrounded by strangers. His friend Rey is gone; they never knew her. Chewie is gone with her. Han Solo is dead. Poe will be back, but with even more on his plate than he has now. Pava had come with him for a bit; they should ask her.

 

They don't have a chance to ask; she shows up on her downshift. They show her the neuroconductivity readouts, give her an estimate as to when he'll reach 98%, the green light for weaning him off sedation.

 _I want to be there_ , she demands.

 _It will take hours to take effect_ , Dr. K responds.

But Poe's chair is still there, and she sits and reads and naps in it for hours until Finn starts groaning, and half the med staff seem to have Important Tasks that need doing in that very bay at that very time.

PA Conde hisses everyone into a huddle to remind them that their favorite patient is sentient, and a soldier and a hero, and not a pitten. Pava rolls her eyes and retorts that Poe, their previously favorite patient, is sentient and a soldier and a hero, and very much their pitten.

_Just, give him some space, okay?_

 

In the end, Dr. K is the one holding his hand and daubing his lips as he comes to, because hers is the only face he would recognize.

 

* * *

 

Everyone is surprised when Ematt is the first one back - a squadron of NRDF X-Wings in tow. They were patrolling the capital when they saw Starkiller's beam. Not knowing what it was, but that it couldn't be anything good, they reported and jumped immediately to their primary out-of-system rendezvous.

Crazy with grief and rage, they had howled to everyone they met that Leia Organa had been right, that the Rapiers had been right to follow her, that the Resistance had been right all along and were now the galaxy's only hope. It hadn't been hard to find them. They estimated that two other squadrons had possibly survived, but didn't know where they had jumped to.

Acting Commander Kun was in flight control when they arrived, updating the logs of their stepped-up and short-staffed patrols. Corporal Gales beckoned her to the comm, and Ematt asked her to verify a Colonel Milly Dhalle of 4th squadron, Third Wing.

 

No one had ever seen Major Kun cry. Maybe a sniff or two. But the way you cry over someone's survival is different than the way you cry over their death. And Karé soaked right through her cuffs while vouching for Dhalle.

She joined one of the transports, delivering two platoons of ground troops to the north field, a full klick from the main airfield. One platoon to surround the site; one to escort the pilots individually to be debriefed.

She hugged each of them as they emerged, one-by-one, according to instruction, even the two newbies that had joined after her time. Of course they understood the security protocols. Of course; they wouldn't have it any other way.

 

* * *

 

The fighter pilots are the next ones back. They have good feelings about their contacts, but nothing solid.

PA Conde is waiting outside the locker room. Poe sees her; the question is written all over his face. She smiles, eyes twinkling, informs him that his presence is requested in the infirmary. His tired eyes light up, a broad smile breaks across his face.

Most of the people he passes on the way welcome him home. One set of eyes glare at him suspiciously, but he doesn't see them; they're outside of his exhausted tunnelvision.

 

* * *

 

Poe: [taps at the doorframe] Hey.

Finn: [big smile] Hey.

Poe moves toward his chair; Finn holds up a hand.

Finn: Wait, wait.

Poe: [stops short, worried]

Finn: [smiles] No, just wait.

Finn rolls himself into a seated position with meticulous ergonomic care. He grimaces. Poe takes another step forward.

Poe: [smiling] Holy shit!

Finn: Just wait.

He carefully pushes himself off the bed, standing. Poe hovers protectively, arms wide and ready to catch him.

Poe: Careful.

Finn takes a step, into Poe's arms. They embrace, for a few seconds. Right when they would pull away, Poe instead presses his face into Finn's neck. Finn presses his face into Poe's temple. They stand, like that.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the envoys return with various degrees of success, and some very interesting rumors. Rumors about how Order-aligned worlds are responding to Starkiller. About how the occupying stormtroopers are responding.

Most of them take it in stride:  _Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. I wouldn't have pulled that trigger, but that's why I'm not a general_.

Quite a few blame the Resistance, calling it a cold-blooded "false flag" plot to discredit the First Order.

But quite another few seem disillusioned, talking openly to planetary officials and even to the general public about how the Order has gone too far, lost its way, the generals must have gone crazy.

 

There isn't a discussion, exactly. Just some eyebrows raised around the conference room. Judicious frowns and slow nods. Poe starts to stand; Leia waves him back into his seat and calls in an aide to see if Finn can attend the meeting.

The aide returns moments later with an angry Kalonia, who informs the assembled brass, with an especially dark glare reserved for Poe, that if they want to debrief her patient they can do it from his bedside or wait til he can walk more than a few meters on his own.

Poe is quick to clarify that this isn't a debriefing, at least not in the sense that she thinks; not in the sense of being a euphemism for interrogation. They need his _insight_ , not his factual reporting. And besides, he insists, with the authority of being the only person in the room to have seen the inside of the First Order, Finn abso-damn-lutely wants in on this, will be pissed if he's not brought in asap.

Can they give him another day, Kalonia begs. Surely there's plenty of other, more immediately actionable data to work with.  

Yes, of course there is. Another day, that's fine.

Col. Dhalle is quiet, watching the argument. As the meeting breaks up, she asks Leia for a word in private.

 

* * *

 

Dhalle: All I'm saying is, he's got a lot to adjust to. It might be best for him to spend some time away from an operational military base. A well-deserved vacation, to adjust to ... the norms of democratic society.

Leia: I couldn't agree more. I would love to give him that. In fact, I would love to give that to any of our people. Because you and I both know that an army is not a democratic society.

Dhalle: But your - our - people, know what democracy is. That's why they're here.

Leia: Do they, though? Do you?

Dhalle: [is offended]

Leia: Because I can tell you, having been on the inside of several governments that claimed to be democracies, I don't know what it is. But I know what it's like without it. As does pretty much every person on this base.

Dhalle: That's not true; half these people are in their twenties, don't even remember the Empire!

Leia: No. But they're from planets like Akiva and Kessel. Some of them are from your Navy. And now, one of them is from the First Order.

Dhalle: Well, exactly.

Leia: Democracy isn't having a majority in the Galactic Senate. It's giving kids like Bette Tredlight and Snap Wexley and Finn D- [stops short, blinks] - giving those kids a chance to choose what they want to be a part of. If they want to be part of anything at all. Giving them a chance to build the societies they want, if they don't exist yet.

Dhalle: [scoffs] Are you talking about decentralization? Isn't that what allowed the First Order to amass the power they have today?

Leia: And wasn't over-centralization what allowed the Empire to emerge under our very noses?

Dhalle: [shakes her head] That's what history tells us - but I wasn't there, and neither were you.

[They reflect silently for a moment]

Leia: If I knew the one, perfect system for everyone, believe me, I'd be singing it from every sun.

Dhalle: And if you thought you knew the one, perfect system, you'd be just as dangerous as the First Order.

Leia: [nods] So you understand.

Dhalle: I'm all for pluralism, Ma'am. But. This - this  _stormtrooper_? Showing up now? It's just... too convenient.

Leia: You think the loss of a planet-sized superweapon was _c_ _onvenient_  for the First Order? Come here, let me show you our basic schema on Starkiller. Let me show you how it worked.

[Leia lights the holodisplay]

 

* * *

 

The other pilots from the 4th are released from debrief; they meet up with Poe, Iolo and Karé to mourn. They name all of the pilots from the two squadrons that might have survived; hope and grief wrestle in the Rapiers' faces. 

Captain Yang: Listen, Poe. I don't know if you want to hear this.

Poe: No, maybe I don't.

Yang: It's about Alva.

Poe: [shakes his head]

Yang: He was - on sleep cycle.

Poe: [shakes his head more]

Yang: He didn't feel a thing.

Poe: You think that's what he would have wanted!

Yang: No, no. But. You should know. He'd been talking, lately. About the Order. About - how you were right.

Poe: I don't - please, Yang.

Yang: I think - I think he was thinking of leaving. Of coming...  _here._

Poe: [anguished] Well, he had plenty of time. He made his choice.

 

He rises, we see him putting together a tray and carrying it out. We follow him to the infirmary, where he delivers Finn's lunch.

 

Finn: Hey. [smiles]

Poe: Hey. [smiles] How was PT?

Finn: I kicked that twenty-meter corridor's  _ass_.

Poe: Pretty soon you'll be kicking mine.

[They arrange Finn's lunch tray.]

Finn: So, Ko says they want me at a meeting later. To talk about some  _Resistance_   stuff. [He raises his eyebrows comically]

Poe: [grinning] Yeah, did she tell you what kind of Resistance stuff?

Finn: No - [suddenly worried] - shit, there's not another superweapon, is there?

Poe: [big smile] No - [smile fades] - not that we know of. I think - [regaining optimism] - it has something to do with some of these reports some of the envoys brought back.

Finn: ???

Poe: About, stormtroopers. Ground forces on occupied worlds.

Finn: [looks worried]

Poe: No, it's good, I think. It sounds like some of them were kind of, upset. When they heard about Starkiller.

Finn: [Cautiously] Like... how upset?

Poe: Like... mutinously so, we hope.

Finn's eyes light up.

Poe: Does that sound... realistic? To you?

Finn: Yeah it does. Especially after something like that. Especially occupation forces. They hear the same news everyone else does.

Poe: [excited] Yeah?

Finn: Yeah... [blinks, misty-eyed]

Poe: Okay, buddy?

Finn: Yeah. [wipes his eyes, shakes his head] I'm just - thinking of some people I knew. That mighta been mutinous. If they were still around.

Poe: [stricken with the grief he repressed while talking to Yang] Fucking hell, Finn. I know. [squeezes Finn's hand.]

 

* * *

 

In the command center. It's Captain Spalway of interior sector security, something akin to an MP, who requests the change of venue. And maybe if he'd been a little discreet, maybe if he hadn't been a total dick about it, asking right in front of Poe like that, maybe Leia would taken him at his word. Maybe.

 

Spalway: A word, General?

Leia: Captain?

Spalway: [eyes front, chin up, not acknowledging Poe] I'd like to recommend a change of venue for the outreach briefing, Ma'am.

Leia: [raises an eyebrow] Is there a problem with the command center, Captain?

Spalway: Ma'am, there's a tremendous amount of strategic information on display at any given moment.

Leia stares patiently, as if he hasn't answered her question yet. Poe clenches his jaw but doesn't speak.

Spalway: It would be disruptive to have to shut all that down for a briefing.

Leia: I imagine it would.

[Dhalle approaches, behind Spalway]

Leia: Especially since we're going to be referring to some of those charts. And that's really all I can say to someone with your security clearance, Captain.

Spalway: [desperately] Ma'am! Without going into any particulars, Ma'am, I don't think we should be sharing strategic intelligence with the stormtrooper!

Poe: [fiercely] There are no stormtroopers on this base, Captain.

Dhalle: With all due respect, Commander, that is your belief.

Poe: [looks absolutely fucking appalled]

Dhalle: You, understand, Ma'am, why the objectivity of the Commander's judgment might be called into doubt.

Poe: What, because he saved my life? I've got news for you; he saved the lives of everyone on this planet.

Dhalle: [dryly] Yes, it's a miracle that your hundreds survived the slaughter of millions.

Leia: [angry] What are you saying, Colonel?

Poe: He risked his life - and his  _freedom_   - to take down Starkiller.

Spalway: Did he, though?

Poe: He - [sputters furiously] - they took down the shields!

Spalway:  _After_   the complete destruction of the capital.

Poe: [fists clenched at his sides, steps up nose to nose with Spalway] I think you had better get the fuck out of my sight, Captain.

Leia: [mollifying] As a security matter, Captain, you really should bring your concerns to Admiral Ackbar. And tell him I sent you. I know he would be happy to discuss the matter in detail with you.

Spalway: [furious] Ma'am. [nods, leaves]

[Poe is still glaring at Dhalle.]

Dhalle: I'm sorry, Dameron, but I just don't understand how you can trust him. We're talking about neo-imperialists! They killed everyone! They killed Alva!

Poe: [really trying to keep steady] He made his choices.

Dhalle: They killed M-

Poe: Do Not. Finish that sentence, Colonel.

Dhalle: Poe. Please.

Poe: You don't need to remind me that the First Order is real good at hurting people I care about.

[more staring]

Poe: And right now, that includes a man they kept for twenty years as a prisoner.

Dhalle: [slight satisfaction on her face] The fact that he saved your life isn't the only reason I question your judgement.

Poe: Well, then you understand, Colonel, why I question  _yours_.

Leia: [to herself, turning away] I don't need to hear this.

 

[cut to: action, elsewhere in the galaxy]

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Dhalle is pretty obviously based on my totally uninformed speculation re Laura Dern's character in The Last Jedi. She and Poe supposedly have a history. My h/c is that in addition to their ideological differences, they competed for a guy at some point in the past. Whatever happened idk but he's gone now and they're both still bitter about it, and both of them have lost plenty of people aready.
> 
> (Update: the only thing I changed in response to TLJ was to give her a promotion to Colonel.)


	2. Corachels

* * *

 

Open on a massive cloud of debris just beginning to swirl around a star: the the remains of the Hosnian system. A few surprisingly intact objects float among the dust.

The Resistance aren't the only ones who have been busy locking down planetary allegiances. Around the galaxy, the First Order is making itself known. Their modus is rather less diplomatic: we see star destroyers dropping into place, stormtroopers swarming through houses of government, First Order generals being sworn in as planetary governors.

 

* * *

 

D'QAR

A squadron of X-wing starfighters patrol D'Qar nearspace. The fighter pilots chatter with transport pilots as the Resistance executes an orderly, well-planned evacuation.

 

MEDICAL CENTER

The medbay is already considerably emptier than yesterday. Finn stands next to his hoverchair, doing strength and balance exercises. He's dressed in a familar-looking set of civvies. He's antsy, not allowed to help with the evac. An orderly walks by, lugging an armored crate.

Finn: You know, you could just put that in my lap and I'll zoom it out to the flight deck in the chair.

Orderly: And face the disapproving eye of Doctor K?

Finn grimaces in sympathy.

Orderly: If we end up in the same place, you can unpack all you like.

Finn: All right. But don't just save me the light stuff.

Orderly: Ha! The little stuff is the worst part.

Finn resumes his exercises, looking a little dejected. He looks at his chrono and sighs.

 

Following a holo figure, he's doing a set of balletic toe-lifts when Snap Wexley leans on the doorframe.

Snap: Hey, Twinkletoes.

Finn looks up, amused.

Finn: Captain.

Snap looks over his shoulder and pushes into the room. His hand pauses over the door control. Finn raises an eyebrow and nods; Snap palms the door closed. He takes a seat.

Finn: What's up, Captain Wexley?

Snap: Call me Snap.

Finn looks a little crestfallen, but nods. Snap rolls his eyes.

Snap: No, kid. _If_ you decide to stay here- and I hope you do- pilots have our own etiquette. Not big on formalities.

Finn smiles lightly and nods again.

Finn: So you here to bring me to this meeting, Snap?

Snap: Yeah, but there's something I wanna talk to you about first.

Finn looks very serious.

Snap: So you know Poe was on a, um, diplomatic mission.

Finn: Weren't you all? Was I not supposed to know that?

Snap: It's fine- it's not a secret. Well, lucky me, I got to go sweet-talk Kamino.

Finn squints, searching his memory.

Snap: The Kaminoans built the- sorry, uh, _raised_ \- the original Clone Army, way back.

Finn: Right, yeah.

Snap: So you see why it's _imperative_ that they not fall on the side of the First Order. _Imperative_.

Finn: Shit, yeah.

Snap: And they're not the kind of people that do the right thing out of the goodness of their hearts. They generally do things for money.

Finn: Right. And the Order has a lot more than we do. I mean, than _you_ do.

Snap smiles at the slip.

Snap: They do. But here's the thing. They don't just value money for its own sake. They like it because it funds research. Scientific research. Because if there's one thing they value more than money, it's knowledge, and the pursuit of it. There's nothing they love more than a intellectual challenge.

Finn: And... you have one to offer them?

Snap: If you're game... _we_ have one to offer them.

Finn looks wary, but very curious.

 

* * *

 

COMMAND CENTER

Officers are assembled around the main display. Already, there are noticeably less of them than at yesterday's debrief. Several of the smaller consoles are gone, as well. Poe is fidgeting near the door. When he sees Finn and Snap come around the corner, he greets them with a nervous smile.

Poe: Hey! Finn! How you feeling?

Finn: Good. Real good.

Poe: You guys talk?

Finn: [smiling] Yeah we did.

Snap pats Poe's shoulder.

Snap: See you corachels in there.

He enters the command center, leaving Finn and Poe alone in the corridor.

Finn: Corachels?

Poe blushes, looks generally embarrassed.

Finn: Are you gonna tell me what he just called me?

Poe: Nothing, just, a kind of bird. He's just teasing me.

Finn: Really. Cause it sounds like he was teasing _us._

Poe: No, no, it's just because, well, you know that I kind of hung out with you while you were, you know, out of it. When I could. Which wasn't much, 'cause of all the- I mean I would have- shit. Don't listen to him, is what I'm trying to say.

Finn: [calmly observing Poe's stammering] So a bird... like a mother hen?

Poe: Um [clears his throat loudly]

BB-8, perhaps sensing eir pilot in distress, peers out of the room and whistles impatiently. They hasten to the meeting.

 

The remaining brass are seated around the display. Poe sits next to Finn, quickly wiping the blush off his face and engaging with the subject at hand.

That subject is garrisoned stormtroopers, the ones most likely to be disillusioned after Starkiller. How do they make the most of the dismay rumored to exist in the ranks? How do they encourage more of it? How do they turn it into action (or, more probably, _inaction_ )? _Propaganda_ is the word no one wants to use.

They agree that Finn's escape with Poe was nothing short of a miracle, but, as someone points out, it's not every day a trooper comes face to face with a walking recruitment poster. Poe looks a little annoyed with this assessment, but doesn't object.

Many of the most senior officers here were in the Rebellion during the Civil War. But not all of them were born into resistance like Leia and Poe. None of them had been _stormtroopers_ , of course, but some had had careers within the Empire. They point out that acts of resistance are largely opportunistic: a delay here, some lost files there. There were defectors like themselves, but far more deserters. The holy grail, of course, is active sabotage.

Present company excepted, they just don't have the resources to vet many defectors. They can hardly handle the Republic volunteers that have been flooding in since Starkiller. The best course is to try to encourage those within the system to resist in the ways available to them. Finn listens carefully, letting everyone throw ideas out before beginning to critique.

Finn: You're right about targets of opportunity. But when you talk about hearts and minds... [shakes his head] I don't think you all understand the depths of the conditioning. Whatever you put out there? All they hear is lies. And the more they hear, the more proof it is of your... uh...

Leia: [with half a smile] _Go on._

Finn: Your, uh, treacherous and... disordered thinking.

Leia grins, although modestly, and now a few other officers join her.

Finn: No troopers are going to listen to you unless they're already having their own doubts. There will be more of those doubts now, after Starkiller. But that doesn't mean they're going to trust  _you_.  And troopers aren't going to do the right thing just because...

Poe: [smiling warmly] Because it's the right thing to do?

Finn meets his eyes, something shines between them.

Leia: Gentlemen? Is there something you'd like to share with the team?

Poe: _Ahem_. I, uh, refer you to my debrief on the _Finalizer_. Anyway. Back to _sowing doubt_.

Brance: So when did _you_ start to doubt, Finn? Aside from- [he gestures at Poe]

Finn: I always knew there was something wrong. But I always thought it was something wrong with _me_.

Leia: Is that what they told you?

Finn: What do you think?

The group nods collectively.

Finn: It wasn't until... well, I'm not proud of it, but. It wasn't until I was ordered to fire on other _humans._

He frowns deeply, clearly upset. Poe takes his hand and rubs it soothingly.

Poe: It's okay, buddy. You don't have to talk about it.

Finn: I do, though.

He looks around the table, frowning anew.

Finn: I mean, I didn't even notice, but everyone in this _room_ is human.

Leia: We're in the middle of a strategic mobilization. The Fleet is in our most capable hands, now. 

Finn: A retreat, you mean.

Leia: [Shrugging] We'll all be gone by this time tomorrow. And hopefully alive somewhere. But let's stay focused: right now we're here to talk about outreach. We need what you have to tell us, Finn.

Finn: Okay. Okay.

He takes a deep breath.

Finn: In that village, I... I didn't...

Poe: I know, Finn.

Out of the corners of his eyes, Poe glares around the room, daring anyone to give Finn a hard time right now. No one does.

Finn: I didn't...

Poe: We know. Rey and Chewie told us all about it.

Finn slumps a little.

Finn: I'll be honest. Wait, I said that already. Crap. [he winces, flustered.] Okay, listen... I was just trying to save my own hide. And Rey's. When I first met Chewbacca, I... I might have been a little bit rude.

Leia: [chuckling sadly] Remind me to tell you sometime about the first time we met.

Finn: But then we went through some stuff together, you know? Me and Rey and Solo [he nods at Leia] and... and Chewie. We had each other's backs. And it was only afterward, when he _yelled_ at me for trying to help him, that I realized... this guy, my battle buddy down there... ever since I can remember, I'd been told that creat- that _people_ like that deserve to be enslaved, at best. Or just gotten rid of entirely. And I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out.

Finn blinks the mist out of his eyes; Poe is nearly beside himself trying to stay professional. He clearly wants to wrap Finn in his arms and tell him how wonderful he is and that everything's going to be okay. The room is uncomfortably quiet for a moment, until Emmat clears his throat.

Emmat: Well. As long as we're being honest. There are people among our allies- among some of our most valuable allies- that haven't entirely figured that out yet.

The officers nod somberly.

Colonel Dhalle: Of course, there have been some problematic practices, but the Senate has been trying to work out guarantees- [she stops] Well, they _were_.

Snap: And obviously there _were_ plenty of sympathizers in the Senate, or we never would have gotten to this point.

Leia: Can we get back to the issue at hand?

Everyone drops back into their professional demeanors.

Leia: I believe Captain Wexley has a report that may be relevant.

Snap: Yes, ma'am. [looking around the table] As you all know, Kamino's allegiance is nothing short of vital.

He launches into his earlier pitch to Finn. The group listens, looking increasingly impatient.

 

Admiral Staura: What did you promise them, Wexley?

Snap: Tell me, what is the biggest mystery in the galaxy right now?

Emmat: Where the hell did this Snoke come from?

Snap: Okay-

Brance: Where did _Rey_ come from?

Finn: [interrupting sharply] Where did _I_ come from?

They stare at him. Poe stares, too, once again looking equal parts sad, impressed, and smitten.

Finn: The squad I was raised with since I was, [he holds his hand at the height of the hoverchair's arm.] Where are their families? Who are the families of the tens of thousands of stormtroopers that don't remember where they came from? Are they dead or alive? Were we stolen or sold? Is anyone-

He stops, on the verge of being overcome. Poe squeezes his hand.

Finn: Is anyone looking for us?

The officers are moved, but don't look pleased to be feeling this way.

Dhalle: What does this have to do with Kamino?

Snap: You know exactly what. If anyone can match troopers to the families of the missing kids, it's the Kaminoans.

Exasperated mutters go around the table.

Dhalle: You still believe in the missing kids.

Snap: My cousin was one of them!

Dhalle: People see patterns even when they're not there.

Statura: That doesn't mean they're _never_ there.

Dhalle: And you think they all became _stormtroopers_.

Poe: It's a long shot, we know. But it's worth looking into.

Dhalle: Worth giving false hope to your new friend, here?

[Poe is outraged.]

Leia: That's enough, Colonel.

Finn: No one's blowing smoke up my ass, Ma'am. I know I'll probably never find my family, at least not any survivors. But it's not just about me.

Poe: [bitterly] It's about something the Republic should have done a long time ago.

Leia: Commander, please.

There is a pause as everyone tries to get a grip on something like objectivity.

Statura: I believe _some_ of the families put together some kind of library of bio samples. Years ago.

Snap nods.

Statura: And I'd be very surprised if they hadn't approached Kamino before.

Snap: That's right, sir.

Statura: And however the rest of the galaxy might write them off as desperate cranks, I'd think the Kaminoans would at least be willing to _look_ at the evidence. If there was anything there, they'd already be working on it.

Snap: Well, the data was all one-sided.

Statura: So you see my point. Other than _Finn_ , we don't have any new evidence. And a sample size of one is hardly compelling.

Poe: That's why we're talking about this in _this_ meeting.

Everyone stares at him.

Dhalle: [incredulously] So, what, we ask stormtroopers to come forward and... offer us bio samples? This is ridiculous.

Finn: No, ma'am. The campaign can't be addressed to them directly. And it can't come from us, either.

Brance: So...

Snap: The families.

Brance: Would they? Haven't they gotten rather fractious? Conspiracy-minded to the point that they don't trust anyone with a different theory?

Leia: I have someone working on that, but it's out of our hands. This is about what _we_ can do.

Snap: It would be in conjunction with a smaller campaign, put out by Kamino.

The room looks doubtful.

Snap: Bankrolled by an anonymous donor, of course.

Emmat: I'd rather not hear about any fraud, thank you.

Poe: A _philanthropic benefactor._

Emmat closes his eyes and doesn't say anything.

Finn: The point is, repetition and hearing it from more than one source will strengthen the message.

Brance: It seems rather transparent.

Finn: Critical thinking isn't exactly encouraged in the First Order.

Dhalle: And what are they supposed to _do_?

Finn: Besides doubt that the Order is acting in their best interests? Isn't that enough to start with?

Statura: It may be. That's exactly the sort of thing we were just talking about. But what do we do if it's too successful? If we _do_ get defectors?

Poe: We promise them safety. We promise to add them to the search.

Dhalle: Is that something we can really promise?

All eyes turn to Leia. Leia turns to Finn. Finn looks nervous.

Finn: If you're asking me to tell you the Order won't try to take advantage of this- I can't. But I know there are troopers who still remember that there was something before, even if they don't remember what. They don't talk about it; it's too dangerous. But I know they know. Their performance in off in one sim but not in others. They dream about it and wake up terrified that they might have said something in their sleep. Some of them know. Some of them remember. The question for us is, are they worth the risk?

Poe: [quietly, downcast] To be fair, it's not just about reaching out to troopers. It's about showing the rest of the galaxy that we're willing to.

He looks terribly sad as he says this, but it seems to reach the most doubtful among them. Even Dhalle nods at the wisdom of this.

Brance: Admiral Statura, I'm surprised by your interest. You've always been a skeptic about the alleged abductions.

Statura: Indeed. But a skeptic is not a pessimist. A skeptic looks for evidence.

He looks directly at Snap.

Statura: In my opinion? Let's start looking for that evidence.

 

* * *

 

MEDICAL CENTER

Finn is in his chair, Poe is next to him looking anxious. Kalonia and a med droid are prepping Finn to have blood drawn.

Kalonia: Nervous?

Poe: Of course.

Finn: [simultaneously] No.

Poe: Shit, sorry, buddy.

Finn: [smiling a little] Why are _you_ nervous?

Poe: Because I want this to work out for you? And I know... I know it's a long shot. Why _aren't_ you nervous?

Finn: Because- Poe. It's not a _long shot_. The odds are zero. I'm not expecting anything, for me. I'm doing this for the campaign. That's all.

Kalonia: That's a good attitude, Finn. It really is pretty long odds.

Poe looks a little heartbroken, but he knows they're right.

Kalonia: As long as I've got you here, Poe.

Poe looks at her wide-eyed, shaking his head minutely.

Kalonia: I know, I give you a hard time about your sleep, but that busybody little droid of yours informs me you got five whole hours last night.

Poe looks relieved, until she picks up another syringe.

Kalonia: No, while you're here, let me draw you too. And get your swabs.

Poe: [blushing furiously] That won't be necessary, ma'am.

Kalonia: [dismayed] Oh.

Poe closes his eyes, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Kalonia looks from Poe to Finn and back again.

Kalonia: If you want to come back-

Poe: [tightly] After Starkiller, even the Royal Houses of Juvex know how desperate the situation is. Every civilization in the galaxy is weighing the risks, making hard decisions based on the long term interests of their people. Not on... diplomatic niceties.

Kalonia: I see. My apologies, Commander.

Poe nods, looking very unhappy.

Kalonia: [with forced cheer] Well. This one does _not_ like watching us pack up without being able to help.

Poe and Finn, simultaneously: Who would?

Kalonia: If you can spare a few minutes, Poe? Some fresh air might be salutory.

Poe: Of course, ma'am.

 

* * *

 

They walk slowly, Finn's hands on the back of his chair for balance. They pass personnel and bots toting equipment. A few people smile and tell Finn they're glad to see him up and about.

Finn: It's weird.

Poe: What is?

Finn: There's still some little part of my brain that thinks I should be in your brig.

Poe: What? Why?

Finn: Uh, _stormtrooper_?

Poe: Uh, _hero_? And every one of these people knows that _you_ saved this planet.

Finn: _We_ saved this planet.

They walk a few more paces before Poe reluctantly admits that a _few_ people were suspicious of Finn at first. Finn can't blame them; he's surprised there aren't more.

Poe: Actions speak louder than words, buddy.

Finn: Hm. Speaking of words.

Poe: Yeah...?

Finn: I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it.

Poe: About what?

Finn: Whatever that was in medbay.

Poe: No, I don't.

 

They emerge into one of the now-empty hangars and make their way to the narrow valley of grass between it and its neighbor. Poe helps Finn down to sit on the grass and sits beside him. The sun is shining and the grass is warm. The mobilization continues on the flight deck.

Poe: I don't have long. I have patrol at 1400 and I have to go over some flight plans with Karé before that. And I should at least try to help with breakdown and loading.

Finn: Is that what Commanders do, in the Resistance?

Poe: No. They'll stick me in a corner with some busywork to keep me out of their hair. Inventorying the caf stirrers in the break room or something.

Finn: [grinning] You must take your caf straight, if you don't think that's important.

Poe: [laughing] I do! Well, actually. [he holds his hands out in front of him] I'm more of a tisane guy, these days. Easier on the nerves.

Finn takes one of his hands, holds it up, considering it. The two of them seem entranced for a moment, looking at their hands together. Then Poe drops his with a sigh.

Poe: So... the thing about these diplomatic visits. They're the worst. For some reason it's bad form, in some places, to just say what you want and what you have to offer. It has to be buried under all this... food and drink and clothes and, and stuff.

Finn hums, encouraging Poe to keep talking.

Poe: And the Royal Houses of Juvex are pretty decadent to begin with. A visitor like me would normally- well. They put a lot of stock in [in finger quotes] _hospitality_.

Finn nods, understanding what it is Poe isn't saying. Normally the envoys would have been offered sex, and been expected to accept it.

Poe's eyes are fixed on the grass between his feet.

Poe: They're exactly the kind of problematic allies Emmat was talking about. But we can't afford to lose them.

Finn studies Poe's unhappy face, the angry little motions of his hands.

Poe: The worlds we're reaching out to- the ones that need convincing- they're _all_ problematic assholes. And most of them are human-dominated. That's why we were the only ones in the meeting, this morning. The rest of the general staff have already mobilized.

Finn: Oh. Interesting.

Poe: No it's not. It's gross.

Finn: It's politics.

Poe: Like I said, gross. But- the thing is. [He turns, looks Finn in the eye] This _wasn't_ that kind of visit. Everyone's panicking, trying to decide what to do before a star destroyer shows up over their capital. There's no room for bullshit.

Finn: Strictly professional.

Poe: Yeah.

Finn: Good to know.

Poe looks at him, still anxious.

Finn: I'm glad you _wanted_ me to know.

Poe looks down again, cursing.

Finn: [eyebrow raised] No?

Poe: _Yes_ , but. I just want you to know I'm not like that. Hell, Finn, we hardly know each other.

Finn: I know. And we're probably not even going to the same rendezvous.

Poe: _We are_.

Finn: Really?

Poe: I helped draft the mobilization plans. We are. But who knows what's gonna happen when we get there. If we get there.

He flops back on the grass, one hand over his face.

Poe: You gotta make it through this, Finn. You gotta see stuff and meet people and- and find Rey again.

Finn: Oh, I _will_ find Rey again.

Poe: I know you will.

Finn lays down gingerly next to Poe. He looks up at the songbirds flitting around in the bright blue sky.

Finn: I'm gonna go out on a limb here, so to speak.

Poe peers at him through his fingers.

Finn: I'm guessing corachels are nothing like hens.

Poe's fingers snap shut over his eyes again.

Poe: No. No, they're songbirds. Little things, pretty feathers, beautiful song. They, um, stick together. Except when they're brooding, and then [he uncovers his face to demonstrate with his hands] one of them stays with the nest, and the other goes for food, and then they switch off. But they're known for, um, bonding. Closely. Shit.

Finn: _Lovebirds_.

Poe: [sighing] Yeah. I'm sorry. You work with people long enough, they get kinda familiar. It's coming from a good place, I promise.

Finn: I kinda like it.

Poe closes his eyes. He takes a nervous breath. _I like it too_ , he whispers. Their fingers touch in the grass.

Finn: So why don't you look like you like it?

Poe swallows, thinks about it.

Poe: While I was away. Did people... talk about me?

Finn: Sure. Of course.

Poe: Did they tell you about my parents?

Finn: No.

Poe: They didn't wait for peace.

Finn: And you think that was a mistake?

Poe: [his hand moves over Finn's] I'm here, aren't I?

Finn laces their fingers together.

Finn: You know what the average life expectancy is for troopers?

Poe looks at him, shaking his head sadly.

Finn: Someone probably does. I don't.

Poe clenches their fingers tight together. Finn rolls onto his elbow, looking down at Poe. Poe's eyes widen as he sees where this is going: Finn is going to kiss him. He tries to maintain eye contact, even as his eyes keep trying to flick down to Finn's lips, as his own lips part unconsciously.

Finn: You one of those people that're superstitious about saying _goodbye_?

Poe: Shit, Finn, I got people to do that for me. If Pava knew you even _said_ the g-word...

Finn: [grinning] How about... what's one place you've always wanted to go?

Poe: One place? It's a big galaxy. I don't think we have time for me to list them all.

Finn: How about next time I see you, you tell me _one_ place?

Poe: [smiling, accepting this] Yeah. One place. You got it.

Finn's eyes are flitting down to Poe's lips flagrantly, now. He ducks his head slightly, asking if it's okay. Poe tilts his head a little, and Finn leans down to kiss him. It's gentle; their lips open to one another and close to press together. They kiss and kiss again, until Finn rests his forehead against Poe's. Poe slides his hand over Finn's shoulder, and Finn moves his into Poe's waist, and they roll together onto their sides, blinking at one another in the sunlight. They press their foreheads together again and close their eyes.

 

The bittersweet moment cannot last; Poe's chrono goes off.

Poe: I gotta.

Finn: I know.

Poe pulls Finn to his feet.

Poe: Shit, was that okay for your back? Sitting on the ground?

Finn: [still smiling a little dopily] Feelin' pretty good right now.

Poe: [beaming at him] Yeah. [sighs happily] But seriously, need to ride back?

Finn: Walking's better. But don't wait for me. Go on, if you have to.

Poe: Like hell. Those caf stirrers can just count themselves or get left behind.

They walk back through the hangar, Finn balancing on his chair again. Poe's fingers trace lazily from Finn's shoulder to his elbow and back.

Poe: So my patrol's got a hot touchdown before your group mobilizes, but I probably won't see you.

Finn: S'okay. I'll see you on the other side.

Poe is about to say something when an alarm goes off. Finn nods _go ahead without me_ , but Poe manages to roll his eyes even as he practically pushes Finn into the chair. They take off together into the underground corridors connecting the base.

Poe: [into his comm] Where do you want me, Kun?

Karé: [from flight control]: In the air. Five minutes ago.

Poe: You okay running this show?

Karé: Bee's warming her up. Get there.

Poe: On it.

They are racing through the underground corridor when the first blast hits. Poe is swearing repeatedly under his breath when a nurse's aide comes running toward them.

Aide: Finn! Thank the Force!

Another blast; dust shakes loose from the ceiling. Admiral Statura, of all people, is right behind the aide. He points back toward the hangar whence the newly confessed couple have just entered.

Statura: Finn! You're coming with us! We've got a transport ready! Let's go!

Poe: [wide-eyed, acknowledging all three] Be safe out there. Finn, I-

Finn: I'll see you there, Poe. [They whisk him away; he calls over his shoulder] You be safe out there, too!

Poe blinks the dust out of his eyes as he races toward his hangar.

 

* * *

 


End file.
